Amber
by VeiledShadow
Summary: She looks beautiful. Achingly so. And he desperately wants to tell her. Spoilers for season four.


**Title:** Amber (1/1)**  
Author:** veiled_shadow  
**Rating:** PG-13/K+  
**Genre: **Fluff, Romance  
**Pairing:**Michael/Sara [Prison Break]  
**Spoilers:** Season 4  
**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations from _Prison Break_ are properties of Paul Scheuring, Adelstein-Parouse Productions, Hofflund/Polone and Original Television in association with 20th Century Fox Television. No copyright infringement intended.  
**A/N:** I found this on my computer this morning and felt that finishing it would be far more interesting than completing my English essay due tomorrow. So enjoy and review, pretty, pretty please =]

Amber

He's been studying her for a whole fifteen minutes before he's even realised what he's doing. But he can't help it, she's intoxicating and he can't stop drinking her in. She's sitting at the warehouse table with Lincoln, Mahone and Sucre, and for once they aren't working but conversing as they eat yet another ready meal that's been shoved in the microwave.

Sighing, he looks back down at the blue prints pinned to the wall in front of him, but it's less than a minute before his eyes have wandered to her again. It's her laugh that's done it this time, and it rings throughout the warehouse, the warmth of it spreading through him as he gazes at her. Her head is bowed, a grin on her face as she stabs at the lasagne with a fork, legs tucked up to her chest as she listens to Lincoln cracking a joke. _It's probably about him, _he thinks and tries desperately not to silently list the many embarrassing stories his brother could be telling.

It's about another half an hour until chairs scrape on the concrete floor and voices disappear into the distance. He's actually managed to concentrate for a while, his palms flat on the table as he leans over some more plans that just won't fit on the board, no matter how hard he tries to shift things around. He doesn't realise she's standing beside him until he catches the sight of a denim clad leg in the corner of his eye.

'Hey,' she murmurs, her voice low as if she doesn't want to interrupt his train of thought. 'How's it going?'

He looks up, ready to tell her it's fine but then he takes her in and suddenly he can't breathe. The setting sun has crept its way through the warehouse window, illuminating her skin in a golden shower of light that has washed away all the stress of the past few days. Her hair has turned a breathtaking shade of red, and it falls around her face in soft ways as she looks down at him, her mouth curved into a smile. But it's her eyes that have really left him speechless. They're the most striking shade of amber he's ever seen in his life.

She looks beautiful. Achingly so. And he desperately wants to tell her.

So he does.

'You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.'

The words are out before he realises it, and her amused eyes – which are still that vivid shade of amber – suddenly still, taken back by his out of the blue comment.

She doesn't know what to say and he knows it, so when she blurts out an excuse that puts her down he is more than aware it's because she is covering up the sudden flash of vulnerability.

'Michael, I haven't showered today.'

'I don't care.'

She frowns and he wishes she wouldn't, because he knows every male in the warehouse has looked at her a bit too long on more than one occasion. Even Lincoln.

But then she's laughing, the sound hitting him square in the chest, leaving him breathless.

'You and your charm, Michael,' she scolds teasingly, but slips her arms round his neck all the same. His hands automatically come to rest on her hips, and he swallows hard as his fingers meet the small strip of bare skin where her tank top and jeans don't quite meet.

'I'm being serious,' he tells her, and despite his smile she's more than aware that he _needs_ her to understand.

'I know,' she says quietly, burying her nose in his neck, breathing in the smell of him.

His fingers brush tenderly across her skin and he revels in the feeling of her warm skin under his fingertips.

'I love you,' she whispers, and his fingers tighten slightly on her waist, the sharp intake of breath making him realise how much he's needed to hear that.

'Good,' he manages finally, his voice tainted with relief as his arms encircle her fully, pulling her flush against him so she's up on her tiptoes.

She pulls away from him and he desperately tries to ignore the sudden loss of her warm breath on his neck, but then she's kissing him, and she tastes of lasagne and orange juice and just _her_, and he knows he's never been this happy before in his life.

He's breathless when her lips part from his, her forehead coming to rest lightly on his own.

'Wow,' he breathes after a while, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 'I'd of told you how beautiful you were sooner if I knew I was going to get a reaction like that.'

She laughs, the sound caressing his ears in a way that makes him shiver.

'Don't get used to it, Scofield,' she tells him, and he realises that he's been told that far too often in the past few days.

'Yeh, well,' he says, a grin on his face, which he couldn't shake even if he tried his hardest – he's just too happy. 'I guess I'll just have to make the most of it now.'

'Really?' she smirks, raising an eyebrow at his assurance, but laughter dances in her eyes and he loves this, loves them being normal, because it's something they've rarely ever been given the chance to do.

He smiles at her confidently, keeping up the game as he leans forward to kiss her, but he hopes she knows that this is _it_ for him. All he wants is her. As his eyelids flutter shut, preparing himself for her soft lips against his, all he can see is her eyes looking back at him.

They're amber.


End file.
